


Welcome, Ghosts

by transmutes (orphan_account)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Legend of Korra
Genre: Canon Compliant, Death, Fire, Firebending, Gen, Ghosts, Nightmare, Nightmares, bolin - Freeform, korra - Freeform, probending, the legend of korra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/transmutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eleven years, but Mako can't chase the ghosts of his parents away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome, Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive me for how melodramatic this is i'm so sorry

    Mako startles from sleep gasping, skin salty and sticky with cold sweat. He jolts upward, shoulders heaving. He presses fingers to his eyelids and tries in vain to chase away the ghosts of his parents from his retinas with the pinpricks of light caused from applying too much pressure. The smell of burning flesh has filled his mouth and nostrils and he sputters. It lingers in his lungs. It's been eleven years, eleven years since everything was ripped apart but the nightmare still slithers in his brain night after night and controls him. Sometimes, he is where he was to begin with, eight and crouched behind a bin, shoulders hunched as he watches the scene through the gaps between grimy fingers. Other times, he is his mother, his father, wearing their faces in the only way he can acutely remember, blackened and slack-jawed. This night was worse than usual; he was _him_ , the firebender with cold and merciless eyes. Tonight he killed them and ignored their pleading and enjoyed it, laughed as he extinguished the light from their irises.

   The sound of laughter pounding away in his head is unbearable. He throws off the covers and tumbles out of his pallet because he needs to do something, any to make it stop.  He steals a glance at Bolin before he leaves the room. His brother is sprawled out on his stomach, wetness pooling on the pillow under his open mouth.  In his sleep, Bolin seems so defenseless and childish and young. Still innocent, somehow. His antithesis. Mako can't explain why this makes his chest hurt so much, braced with all this emotion and affection for his brother. Mako forces himself to look away because he's not sure he can feel so many conflicting emotions at once; love and hate, shame and pride, emptiness and feeling are all spilling over the brim. His body is going to collapse upon itself if he doesn't get out of here as quickly as he can, so he snaps out of it and flees.

   The practice room is deserted and dark and cool. He allows himself a moment to inhale, exhale, and then he's at it, stiffly going through all of his firebending forms. He arcs his leg in a high kick and sends forth an angry burst of fire that overwhelms the sheen of the moonlight that has bathed the walls. Even when he uses his bending as catharsis, he still makes his movements precise because he's seen the destruction fire can wreak. The rawness of firebending is something he works so, so hard to control. Control is who he is, all he's got besides Bolin. Honestly, he thinks, firebending doesn't usually seem like the enemy. He can lose himself in the rigidity of pro-bending rules, can allow himself to feel pride over his skill and a match well-won. But tonight, it doesn't help, doesn't cut through the twisted mess inside him. Tonight, it only represents what he's afraid he is possible of becoming. He's going through the motions like he usually does and he's trying to make himself see the beauty and warmth of fire but it's impossible right now, he can't. All he sees in the fire he creates is the same gold yet icy hue that carved out the eyes of the man that took his parents' lives.

  Mako stops, drops his shoulders, chews his lip. Do his eyes ever look that way? Does Bolin ever notice? The cackling has filled the room now, reverberating off the walls. When he sucks in a breath, it is shaky and rattling. He grits his teeth and gets back to practicing, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't chase the laughter away.


End file.
